Of Gunshots and Gondolas
by Scrappy McGee
Summary: The President is kidnapped, and it seems that Ian maybe behind all of it. But how can a man do anything while in jail? And whats all this about more treasure? Ben/Abi. Maybe Riley/OC
1. Prologue

AN: Yay. I am so proud of myself. After a few whiles of working on this, then finding out I was going the wrong way with it, then fixing it, I think I got it. Don't I feel proud. So, if you guys like it, or you think it might need tweeking or whatnot, or just downright hate it, review and let me know, k?

Disclaimer: Guys, I don't own National Treasure. Cuz if I did, I would make this into a movie than a fanfic.  
I _do_ own Alice and Walter. And Danny, but your not gonna see much of him in anywho.

England. December 31st, 1985

The old manor had many rules that were to be obeyed by everyone, from the wise old butler to the newest member of the household. This Golden Rule was simple: Never bother the master, his friends, or any of his business partners. Keep out of sight, out of mind, and what ever you do, stay in his favor. That is, of course, unless you believe that your main goal in life is to wake up the next morning with a bullet through your head, like the former chef. This rule didn't just apply to the master's servants, but also to his family as well.

"Although," thought the blonde boy who stood in a lone corner, away from the incredibly old guests and the idle chatter dominating the fire lit den, quietly listening to the loud laughter penetrating from the upper floor, "They've obviously haven't figured this out yet." The annual New Year's Eve Party has always been held at the mansion, and it was a time when family, old associates and others within the Master's tight circle of business gathered. And though it seemed like an ordinary party, anyone who knew what to look for and was observant enough could sense the growing tension in the room. A quick glance at his Father, the master of the house himself, showed that he was beginning to loose his concentration on the discussions with his peers and was angrily glaring at the ceiling. Without a word, the boy gave his drink to a passing server, wove his way around the thick crowd of invited people, opened the heavy wooden doors which led to the lower hallway, and quickly hurried up the hallway staircase which eventually led to the room where the laughter came from. The children's bedrooms.

The room was in complete disarray. Feathers drifted in the air as two kids, a younger boy with brown hair, and an even younger blonde girl, jumped on the single bed, hitting each other with poofy pillows. The blankets and sheets somehow tangled around their feet, causing the boy to trip every once in a while, which in effect resulted in his sister taking full advantage and smothering the boy with her pillow. And, of course, what kind of pillow fight would be complete without hysterical laughter echoing throughout the whole house?

Answer: a safe one.

"You two definitely know how to be quiet." The boy said, quietly closing the door.

"Oh come on! Can't we have a little bit of fun?" Said his brother as he jumped on the bed, throwing his sister, Alice, off of it in the process.

"Ow! Walt, that's my bed." The sister said as tears started to slowly roll down her face.

"Shhh. Stop that." The elder brother said, nervously glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah, stop being such a cry baby." The other one, Walter, said, grinning as the sister began to pout.

"I am not a cry baby!" She yelled.

"Shhh! Do you want Father to come up?" That instantly got their attention. Walter quickly stopped jumping, while the sister listened for heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs.

"Thank God. Please, don't do that again. We could hear you in the living room; Father's guests were starting to get upset." The eldest said, turning to walk towards the door.

Walter began to pale as his little sister hurriedly pulled at his sleeve. "Dad's friends are here?" He croaked as she shook him. "You wouldn't mind staying with us for a while, would you? To keep," he added at his brother's quick look, "just to keep her quiet." He motioned at his sister, who had passed tugging his sleeve and was now curled in a tight ball next to him.

"Well, if it's only that." The blonde brother said with a ghost of a smirk, as he walked back. "Actually, Mom told me to go to bed after the champagne was served." Pulling up a chair, he began to loosen up his 'to-tight-to-breath' tie. "Do you want me to tell you a bed time story, or are you old enough to go to sleep by yourself?" He asked his sister.

"I don't want to hear a story. I don't want to go to sleep! I am a grown up, and I can go to sleep whenever I want." She said, with all the stubbornness unfortunately programmed into every kid. Besides her, Walter began to move.

"Oh, I don't know about that. There is this one bed time story only for adults. Isn't there?" He glanced at his brother, who quickly looked away.

"Really?" The girl asked. Her brother sighed.

"Walter," he began. "We've already been over this. Father's the only one who's aloud to tell us. Mom doesn't even know more than half of it!"

"Please tell the story." Alice begged, holding her hands as if she was praying, while behind her Walter mimicked her actions.

"You'll be my favorite brother." Walt suggested.

"I'm your only brother." He sighed. "Fine. But not a word to Matthew, either of you. He'll kill me if he finds out I told you." The two others rushed to the bed, Walter grabbing the pillow as his sister hugged her teddy bear that her mother hadn't yet thrown away with the rest of her toys. The eldest fixed his chair so that he could comfortably sit facing his siblings at the end of the bed while listening for trouble on the other side of the door.

"Now, do you both now about the American Revolution?" he asked. Recognition came from Walter, who learned about the war with his other classmates like any self-respecting twelve year old. Alice, however, looked on confused. "Do I have to get into the whole story?" The brother asked in exasperation?

Walter shrugged. "The whole story might be welcomed." He said simply.

"Right. Well, about two hundred years ago, England ruled over America. But the Americans, then called colonists, didn't like the British, nor did they like the tax laws Parliament passed."

"Pst, Walt." The girl whispered. "What's taxes?"

"Something that Dad doesn't do." He whispered back.

"Oh."

"Eventually, the colonists and the British went to war." The older brother continued. "Now, our great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, William, and his brother Richard, were both important soldiers on the British side. They, and their men, single handedly gained the upper hand for the British. Secretly, however, they sided with the colonists; besides paying taxes, colonists wanted independence and freedom. Richard was once a good friend with a man called Benjamin Franklin, an importance figure for the Americans. At one point, Richard was able to gain an audience with Franklin, unknown to his British superiors. If the British found out," he explained, "the two brothers would be arrested and killed for treason."

"Did the British find out?" Alice interrupted. "Did the brothers' die? Did Frankil have a trap and hurt them 'cuz they were British? Did they-"

"First off, it's Franklin. Let me finish." Blondie said. "Franklin told Richard that he couldn't stop the war now, not without still being ruled by England. And they all knew that the brothers couldn't get out of the war without dieing either. So, they began to build a plan, which none of them told anyone, not even the American leader, George Washington. See, what they decided to do," he said, leaning in. "They decided to let the Americans win the war. William and Richard, who were by now both generals, began to lead their men to agonizing defeat against the Americans. They stopped moving their troops to help other parts of the British army, and, because of their lack of effort, the Americans won the war."

"As a reward for what they've done, Franklin mailed them a key and a letter concerning a treasure. In the letter, there was a small list of complex clues to a treasure of unknown origin and location. No one has yet found it, and Franklin thought that it would be a very fitting reward for William and Richard. And the Howe's have been looking for it ever since." The blond finished, getting up from his chair. "Now, let me remind you again, if Father hears that I told you, he will not be pleased, and I doubt it'll just be the usual punishments for me. This goes against all family tradition. Understand?"

"We won't tell." The girl yawned. "I'm tired."  
"You should go back down." Walt said, half-carrying, half dragging his sister to her bed. "Make sure that mom doesn't want you for anything."  
"No, I already told you, mom doesn't want me downstairs. You should go to bed to. Our cousins are coming tomorrow."  
"Danny too?" Walt asked.  
"Of course." The blond said, walking out into the hall.  
"Oh, and Ian?" Walter called. "Thanks."


	2. Chapter 1

BandGeek58407: William I remember. He was mentioned in our 7th grade text book, and I have a weird habit of remembering random things. And there are some more little facts that I'm saving for later. Never heard of Horatio Gates though. What a coincidence. And I'm glad you like how it's going so far!

Washington D.C. June 13th, present date.

Abigail Chase wasn't the superstitious type. She didn't believe that black cats were bad luck, nor did she avoid walking under ladders. And she never understood how throwing salt over your shoulder would help matters. So when an argument sparked last night over whether Ben should give his speech at the new Lecture Hall on Friday the Thirteenth, Abby predictably took the more rational side. The Anti-Riley side.

"What, do you _want _to ruin Ben's career? After all we've done?" Riley asked, surprised. Riley was the one you shouldn't hang around on the thirteenth of any day; he found twisted enjoyment in finding everything a bad omen. Take show laces for example. One minute, Riley's one-hundred percent convinced that the mission to find _The Charlotte _was in vain because earlier that morning he broke his shoe lace. The next minute, Ben finds said ship, and their adventure to fame began. Yes, there was a little mishap on board, with Ian showing his true colors and becoming a little gun crazy, but that wasn't bad luck. It was his nature, or so Abby believes in.

_And how does one break shoelaces anyway?_ Abigail thought as she leaned on a polished marble pillar, watching the revolving door at the lobby. _They get ruined and frayed, but they don't just snap in two._ Annoyed, she glanced at her watch. 1:50. Ten more minutes until Ben's speech started. Ten more minutes until the doors close for good. Ten more minutes for Riley to get here. Hopefully there were no shoelaces involved this morning. A flurry of inconspicuous men quickly passed into the lecture hall.

_Where _is_ he?_

_"_Excuse me, Miss Chase." An old, graying man in a simple black suit said, bringing Abigail's attention away from the doors.

"Mr. Sadusky. What are you doing here?"

Peter Sadusky smiled. "I believe Mr. Gates is conducting a lecture on the American Revolution today. And since Gates is an expert on American history, the President wished to hear it."

"The President wants to hear Ben's lecture? And Riley said today was the day that his career would be ruined."

"Why? Oh, today's the thirteenth." Sadusky shook his head. "Tell Mr. Poole that my most trusted men are surrounding this building. Nothing can go wrong." He said, turning down the hall to begin his patrol.

"I'll tell Riley all right. Whenever he gets here."

Just then, a familiar red Ferrari, pulled up. The driver, a bespectacled guy with black hair, hurriedly parked his car, and jogged up to the glass doors. Abby went up to meet him.

"Riley!" Abby called. "What took you? You barely made it." She frowned, looking behind him. "Where's Jacqueline?"

Riley grimaced. "She couldn't make it." He grumbled, moving past her towards the doors leading to the hall.

"Really? Because last time I talked to her, she was so excited to go. What happened?"

"Some sort of family business."

"What kind of-"

"So where are our cursed seats?" Rile interrupted, looking around for empty seats, a hard task for someone who had only three more minutes to spare. "Wow. I didn't know that Ben had such a fan club."

_Neither did I. _Abby thought. The room was filled with rows and rows of plush red seats, all seemingly not without an occupant. There was little room along the windowless walls for more people to lean against it, and still people were coming through the doors. _Thank God that Ben reserved seats for us._ Abby couldn't help but laugh at the memory of Riley's reaction when Ben told him his seat number.

"Row A, seat 13?! What's wrong with you people?"

With everyone pushing to get to their seats before Ben got on stage, Abigail and Riley finally found their seats. And in good timing. Abby thought as the lights dimmed slightly. Joining with the rest in the audience's applause as Ben took the stage, she smiled. Ben's on stage, we have the best seats in the house, and the President is watching. Like Sadusky said, what can go wrong_?_

_--_

Security rooms aren't usually an interesting place. The room softly glowed with blue light from the multiple TV screens, humming from overuse. On the one small desk sat a Dunkin' Donuts bag, complete with chocolate glazed, sprinkled covered sweets and a complimentary hot hazelnut coffee. The one guard sat in the middle of the room, slouched in his chair, facing the screens. To a passerby, he seemed as if he fell asleep listening to the important, though tedious, lecture of the Revolution. On closer inspection, one would notice his empty eyes, his blank expression, and lack of breathing. The observer wouldn't have a chance to notice anything else; the man kneeling down near the one computer had a thing against witnesses, and the gun within arms reach was definitely an option he had used many a time.

With FBI agents present in every screen, the man needed to work very quickly. Being caught was not an option. Yes, he had a cover story as strong as the concrete floor, but too much work was put into today's proceedings. Even if the feds don't throw him in jail, e will surely be 'taken care of' by his boss.

On his hands and knees, the man shifted the computer 'tower' so the back of it, the side containing the plugs and wires, faced him. Slightly grinning, he quickly got up and remorselessly rolled the dead man's chair over to the air vent. Within two short minutes, the man jumped onto the chair, opened the vent with a small screwdriver from his pocket, grabbed a small laptop leaning against one of the sides of the vent, and reset the screws to their proper place. Back on his hands and knees, he proceeded to unplug some of the wires connecting the computer tower to the main monitor, and placing them in the appropriate slots in the laptop. Looking around to see if everything was in place, the man turned the laptop on.

Two seconds later, the whole building was in complete darkness.

As the man left, he couldn't help but think that most of the most exhilarating jobs that he had were in average, boring security rooms.

--

When the lights went off, Riley's first thought was that there might be a slideshow coming up. Even though Ben never mentioned a slideshow, or asked for his help. Maybe he had one of those laser pointers that lecture-giver-slideshow-showers always seemed to have.

Obviously, other people didn't share his optimistic sentiments.

The first and loudest noise was the screeching of the fire alarms, though the scrambling of feet as everyone got out of their seats was a close second. People all around them pushed past in the attempt to do something heroic, like running for their lives, while the sprinklers on top of the ceiling let loose a sudden downpour of water. In seconds the entire room was slick with water, making the tile floors impossible to run on even for a few steps. Riley didn't really pay any attention to his surroundings after that; he was a bit busy handling the random hand grabbing onto his shoulder_._

_"_Riley, it's me." The owner of the hand said.

"Ben? What's going on? And how'd you find us in the dark?"

"I saw you before the lights went off. Where's Abby?"

They both sensed someone move below them. "Right here." Abigail moaned from down on the floor. They both sensed her struggling to get back up. "Someone pushed me when the alarms went off, and my ankle hurts now." Riley bent down and slowly helped Ben pick Abigail up.

"Lean on me, Abby. There are fire exits on both sides of the stage. We can go out there." Ben said, beginning to clumsily feel his way towards the stage, and, slightly slipping, began to go up the stage steps. "Follow me."

"Hey Ben!" Riley said, fishing something from his pocket. "This might help." He grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and, after turning it on, used the light as a makeshift flashlight.

"Perfect. Let's go."

They group, led by Ben, slowly shuffled their way to backstage. The floor here was extra treacherous: the whole stage was a huge pool of water, with piles of rope, wires, and other equipment scattered just out of the cell phone's range of light. At first, the only evidence of other people were the screams and shouts echoing in every corner of the room and the loud bangs as people slipped into unseen obstacles in the dark, though the lack of people almost gave Riley the impression that all this noise was actually a recording. Maybe everyone left, and we're the only ones still here? It didn't take long, however, for the trio to gain some followers who were attracted by the weak light of Riley's phone.

They stopped before they could even see the exit door. In front of them was a large mob surrounding the door, the people in the front slamming objects against the door trying to break it down. In their desperation, some where pushed out of the way as others made their way to the front of the pack. The trio's followers quickly joined in the fray as Ben looked around for something to pry the door open. A balding man broke apart from the mob and headed over to the approaching group.

"No sense staying here. The doors locked, and no amount of pounding will open it."

"Ben, you said there was another door on the other side of the stage. Maybe that one's unlocked."

"Ah, the famous Mr. Gates." The man said, walking with the group away from towards the supposedly unlocked door. "Shame this had to happen today, isn't it?"

"Hey, wait." Riley said, staring at Ben. "I told you that something bad would happen today!"

"Now's not the right time for 'I told you so's '"

"I know. I'm just reminding you."

Even as they moved away from the locked doors, Riley could still hear the pounding fists and desperate shouts over the alarms. It's getting warmer in here. He thought. I bet the fire already spread to the room. But where's the light? Listening to the commotion around him, he could sense the panic vibrating throughout the room. Lucky for him, all the adventures with Ben had given him a slight immunity against fear.

"Riley, can you stop shaking the light? I think I see the door."Ok, so I'm not immune to fear. So what? Ben finally found an un-mobbed door!"

Lucky for them, this door was blown off its hinges even before they could even get close to it. Men in black uniforms with flashlights and guns came streaming out, temporarily blinding everyone with light.

"No one move!" Someone said into a megaphone. "This is the FBI. Remain where standing where you are." The men quickly surrounded the room, checking every single nook and cranny. They must have opened the other doors. Riley thought, seeing as the lights and hearing orders traveling across the room.

"Gates," a low voice said. Quickly turning, Ben, Abby, Riley and the stranger jumped in surprise as Sadusky's pale-pale lit face floated over to them. "Can you please come with me?"

Ben nodded in agreement, and then motioned for Abby to lean on Riley. "Sadusky, what is this all about?"

Static from his walky-talky interrupted them. Picking it up, Sadusky impatiently listened to it. "Yes, I know about the officers. Has anyone called for an ambulance yet? No? Well, wouldn't it be helpful if someone did? Yes," He said, glancing at Ben. "I have this situation under control. Has Jordan reported it in yet?" More static mutterings ensued Ben couldn't help but be in awe of Sadusky's static-understanding abilities. "Get some backup to cover for Jordan. Tell him whoever is responsible is armed and dangerous." Clicking the volume to low, Sadusky and Ben finally reached the outside doors. The sunshine, though bright, did nothing to aid Ben's growing nervousness. The swarming FBI, SWAT, Firefighters and police attempting to get into the dark building didn't help matters.

"Sadusky, what happened?" He repeated, looking at the mayhem in front of him.

Sadusky sighed. "Around 2;20, our security cameras were attacked by a virus of some kind, which scrambled our feed, turned off most of the lighting in more than half of our buildings, and the fire alarm in each building went off, and, substantially, the sprinklers."

"Oh." Ben said, looking down the block. He noticed many of the other buildings had some police walking around, but it was almost nothing in comparison with the Lecture Hall. "So what makes this incident here so special?"

"Ben," Sadusky started. "As a man experienced with law breaking and computer hackings as you would find today's assembly the perfect opportunity. The truth is, Gates, the President is missing, his guards fond dead." Looking at Ben's look of understanding, Sadusky wiry smirked. "And I believe someone with a past of President kidnappings would be of service to the FBI."


End file.
